


Under the Wreckage

by gloomsday



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Game Spoilers, Guilt, M/M, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-31 12:19:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6469816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gloomsday/pseuds/gloomsday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shortly after their ecstatic reunion, an unexpected rift settles between Rhys and Vaughn. While seeing Vaughn alive and well fills Rhys with enough happiness for an entire lifetime, Vaughn emotionally withdraws, becoming polite at best and openly scathing at worst. Terrified that the decisions he made after their separation has ripped devastating holes in their friendship, Rhys takes advantage of a now rare moment alone with Vaughn to talk to him, desperate to figure out where they stand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Rhys watched the sandstorm sweep across the barren landscape with an increasing sense of unease. It took twenty minutes to find them. By then, the swarm of Pandoran sand had spiraled high enough to blot out the light of the afternoon sun and turn the sky a threatening shade of red. No one had mentioned how bad sandstorms on Pandora could get. Of course they hadn't.

Vaughn shouted a string of "fuck you"s into the hot wind before ordering everyone to disband and take cover. He winced against the grit kicking up into his face, shielding his eyes with one hand as he waved his ragtag Hyperion bandits out of the clearing with the other.

He returned to the clearing and skirted the bottom of the makeshift watchtower (actually just a tricked out jet engine that had landed vertically in the crash). "Come on, Rhys! Loader Bot!" Vaughn called up to them.

Against his better judgment, Rhys looked down from his vulnerable position halfway up the ladder. Vaughn took a step back from the base of the watchtower, arm covering the lower half of his face. A figure of fifteen feet flashed across his vision, his ECHO eye measuring the distance from his current position to the ground. Not a significant drop, but far enough for Rhys to have to shove down the vertigo ballooning in his chest before taking another shaky step down. He glanced back down. Vaughn's eyes stayed trained on him, waiting patiently. Affection burned somewhere small and bright inside Rhys and he quickly dropped down a few more rungs, leaping down the rest of the way.

Just as Rhys turned to face Vaughn, a loud, metallic creaking sound rose up over the moaning wind, followed by an abrupt snap.

Vaughn swore under his breath. "Catch up with the others!" He yelled as he rushed past Rhys, out into the thick of it.

"Vaughn, where are you—?" Rhys said, having to grab onto a piece of debris reinforcing the watchtower to keep the wind from knocking him back a stride. He stared at the spot where Vaughn had just vanished into the storm, a sudden flare of anxiety ratcheting up in his stomach.

Loader Bot dropped down from the watchtower after Rhys, the parched ground beneath them tremoring for a moment. Taking a cursory step forward into the howling wind, he craned his robotic neck out. His light sharpened a deep red.

"What is the smallest bro doing?" he asked.

"I think part of the wall just broke off," Rhys said, immediately regretting opening his mouth again as sand nested in the corners of his mouth and under his lips and between his teeth within seconds. He clamped his natural hand over his mouth. "I'll wait for him. Make sure the others get to safety, okay?"

Loader Bot hesitated. "Shall I recount the bad decisions you've made when left to your own devic—"

"Hard pass! Just do it, please! I got this."

Loader Bot gazed into the storm before giving Rhys an unconvincing thumbs up. "Be careful," he said. He turned and ran, that same Hyperion yellow of his new, metal body getting swept up in a crashing wave of sand.

Rhys ducked his face into the lapels of his jacket. He turned back around and peered out over the flurry, waiting for a glimpse of Vaughn. With an intentional blink, his ECHO eye sharpened its focus, darting from one corner of his sight to the other in search of movement that wasn't sand.

 _Come on, Vaughn, what the hell are you doing?_ He clenched his mechanical hand into a fist, noticing with a hitch of alarm that the movements of his fingers had slowed, crunching against tiny grains of sand that worked its way between the hairline joints in the machinery.

"Vaughn!" Rhys shouted.

Finally, with his head lowered into the crook of his elbow, something like the wisp of fabric caught his eye. Vaughn appeared, his hood tied tightly around his head. The ragged tails of his even more ragged shirt snapped in the wind. He returned empty-handed but apparently fine judging by his posture alone. Relief washed over Rhys as Vaughn rushed up to him. Confusion knitted into Vaughn's eyebrows, and he grabbed Rhys by the wrist.

"What are you doing?" Vaughn said with a force that seemed almost angry, his voice muffled against his arm.

"Waiting for you!" Rhys said. "What were _you_ doing?"

Vaughn shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Come on, I know where everyone's heading."

He dragged Rhys down the same path the others had taken, hunched over to ward off the sand but otherwise sure-footed. A harsh blast of sand struck Rhys across the cheek, bearing a strange and painful similarity in feeling to rugburn. He yelped, clawing at his face and the corners of his eyes.

Vaughn veered from the main footpath and onto a narrow side path. He wove through a canopy of twisted metal hanging overhead with ease, tilting his head and dipping sideways like he'd been down the path dozens of times.

"Watch out," he called, his grip on Rhys's natural wrist tightening.

Rhys gasped, ducking at the very last second to keep the sharp corner of an awning from slicing a nasty cut across his forehead. Staggering out of its way, Rhys set his sights above him for any other nearby offenders, heart racing.

Movement flickered in the corner of his periphery. Before Rhys could even identify what was hurtling toward them, he bounded in front of Vaughn. He threw his cybernetic arm out and braced it with the other. A thin piece of sheet metal struck his forearm and ricocheted off in another direction.

"Holy shit!" Rhys screamed, but his words were ripped straight from his mouth and shredded into the wind.

Vaughn uncurled from his protective pose, lifting his head from against his shoulder. "Holy shit," Vaughn agreed, looking somewhat bewildered. "Thanks."

After a stilted moment, Vaughn regathered his wits and pulled Rhys alongside him, continuing along the path with renewed urgency. They rushed around a corner of debris, revealing a tall, domed structure patchworked together with tinted solar panels mounted on windows as far as Rhys could see.

The wind, a constant moaning entity, mercifully flagged back a notch as they approached. Vaughn located a rectangular plate of metal fixed to the outer wall with large stones holding it there at the base. He nudged the rocks aside with the tip of his shoe and tossed the metal plate like a piece of cardboard, uncovering a small, fully-functioning door. Tugging the handle, he ushered Rhys in. Vaughn followed closely, shutting the door behind him with an exasperated sigh, his breaths heavy and uneven.

"Oh my god. That was," Rhys said, doubling over, chest heaving, "intense."

"You're not kidding," Vaughn said. "Thanks again, man. I didn't even see it coming at us."

"Don't mention it."

Vaughn dragged his top row of teeth over his bottom lip. "Ugh. I didn't know it'd get that bad. We've had sandstorms before. I mean, the valley Helios crashed in is like a goddamn funnel for the things. But it's never been," he drew in a breath, "like this. And I didn't think they'd go to the infirmary instead. Shit." He eyed the door. "Any chance you'd be willing to go back out there?"

Rhys scoffed. "Do I actually have to remind you of the sheet metal that almost slapped the shit out of you at like 50 miles an hour?"

Vaughn chewed the inside of his cheek. "Then would you be okay here until the storm passes? I could go check—?"

"You're not _actually_ thinking about going back out there," Rhys said, somewhat disheartened that Vaughn would consider leaving him alone. "Sheet metal. 50 mile an hour winds. Sand. Literally. Everywhere." Rhys shook his hair loose of the gel still somewhat holding its shape. Sand fell out and clung to his sweat-dampened hairline or sprinkled on the floor.

"I get it." Vaughn made a frustrated sound in the back of his throat and made a face. "I just hope they're all right."

"Well, even if something happened, they'll have a whole infirmary at their disposal right? Plus, Loader Bot's with them, so I wouldn't worry too much."

"Yeah," Vaughn muttered, fidgeting with his hands.

If Rhys didn't know better, he'd think that Vaughn didn't want to be alone with him. That he was looking for an excuse to split them up. The thought gnawed at him as he hung there, palms resting against his knees; he played back the short conversation that had just transpired, sifting for something that could've upset him. Nothing came to mind. Then again, Rhys would be the first to admit that he might lack tact or perception for these kinds of things at times.

Rhys finally straightened, an overwhelming sea of green tugging his attention away from Vaughn. A simple but well-manicured garden covered nearly every square inch of the circular room except the entrance where he was standing.

"Um, so this is incredible," Rhys said, wide-eyed.

"Oh, right. You haven't seen this yet," Vaughn said, the impatient center in his voice softening a touch. "It was one of the first things we built. Got sick of skag meat pretty quick and thought it might help. Not a ton of yield yet, but give it a few more months. There are a few others around the base too."

Rhys's mouth fell open. "Oh my god. You ate skag?"

"Oh yeah. Pretty sure we all did. It's about as good as it sounds. Like chicken if chicken was the literal worst, and had also been baking out in the sun for two hundred years."

"Holy shit, dude. That's hardcore."

"What, you _didn't_ dabble in the fine Pandoran cuisine?"

Rhys allowed himself a self-conscious laugh. This was the conversation Rhys had been trying to breach for days; three agonizing days of awkward niceties and somewhere, buried deep down, a dreaded fear that these months apart and circumstances in between had torn an unpatchable hole in their friendship.

"Nah, I leapfrogged to every town I could find. Beat the hell out of foraging."

Vaughn scratched his beard and waded out into the garden, down a beaten path between rows of what looked like some kind of bell pepper. He bent down and pinched a dead leaf off the vine. Rhys's heart faltered a little as he watched Vaughn, a warmth like direct sunlight pooling low in his stomach.

"Yeah, well, when you're running from a bandit lord and her goons, that's not exactly much of an option."

"Oh, no, I—I know that. I wasn't trying to imply—never mind," he stammered. "What I'm trying to say is that I probably would've died in your shoes."

"Don't say that," Vaughn snapped. The muscles in his jaw twitched. Rhys's chest tightened, but he said nothing as Vaughn knelt down in the dirt and busied his hands with the patted-down soil. "I just, I did what I had to to survive out here. We all did," Vaughn said slowly. Sadly.

"I know," Rhys said.

Vaughn pursed his lips, picking off the other dead leaves on the plants around him. "This place is seriously crazy sometimes. And now fucking _sandstorms_ out to murder us. I can't say I'm surprised, though." With a gentle roll of his shoulders, Vaughn looked up at the tinted windows arching overhead. Streaks of sand rushed across them like blood. They rattled and groaned against the wind. "I should've had them get to safety sooner. If I hadn't been so caught up in the schedule, in getting that stupid wall put up, I—I didn't think that it would get so bad." He slammed his open palm into the dirt. "I'm an idiot."

Rhys tilted his head, confusion settling across his brow. "What are you even talking about? You're _not_ an idiot. They're _fine,_ " he said.

Vaughn made an exasperated sound and stared intensely at the plant in front of him.

"Seriously, I wouldn't worry about it too much," Rhys continued, starting to feel like he'd _really_ said something wrong. "I'm sure they can take care of themselves for an hour or two, at the very least."

Vaughn stood and smacked his hands together before he made his way back to the entrance where Rhys was standing, keeping a distance from him.

"Like you and I took care of ourselves when we came down here from Helios?"

Something about the way Vaughn said it stung like an entire stump of wasps.

"Hey, we figured it out, right?"

"If by 'we figured it out' you mean 'nearly got ourselves killed at least a couple dozen times,' then yeah, sure." Rhys waited, just in case Vaughn was actually making a joke, but no smile came. "Anyway, and we lost a big piece of the wall, which also sucks."

"So that's what you ran out into the storm for?" Rhys said with trepidation.

"It was like half a day's work."

"Yeah, but you could've—"

"And it blew off into the fucking ether, so we'll have to rebuild it and haul in some more debris to have Loader Bot bang together into something that resembles a wall."

"Eh, we've got time."

Vaughn threw him an unreadable glance, his eyes narrowing.

"Wait, so you're staying now?"

"Um." Rhys's heart crept up to his throat. "I mean, we still need to round up Athena and the others to help us rescue Gortys."

"Right."

"But even after that I'm thinking, I mean, if it's not a huge inconvenience." Rhys's throat went desert dry. "Where else would I go?"

"Back to the Atlas facility at Old Haven, I thought."

"Well, I mean, yeah. But there's not exactly a whole lot going on right now. I'd rather help out here, if you'll have me." Heat burned into the tops of Rhys's cheeks. "Not that you need the help. Seriously, you've done _so_ much already. You're amazing. _This_ is amazing. I still don't even know how you're doing all of this." He grunted and shook his head. "That sounded like a backhanded compliment, and that's not what I meant. I'll just—I'm not doing a very good job talking. I'll shut up now."

Vaughn's gaze dropped to the floor. He laced his hands together, his index fingers flush together and pointed upwards—a gesture Rhys recognized immediately as an Old Vaughn nervous tell. So not everything about Vaughn had changed after all, and Rhys wasn't quite sure what to do with that small glimpse into the best friend he knew and loved before everything came literally crashing down on top of them.

"Thanks," he said quietly. Vaughn shifted his weight to one leg. As he moved, the front of his vest loosened and parted just enough for Rhys to sneak a good look at Vaughn's body. Except he didn't really sneak anything; he stared openly, drawn to the effortlessness of his toned muscles, the new freckles dappling his sun-tanned arms. These past months had done all kinds of favors for Vaughn. Rhys, on the other hand, suddenly became critically aware of the dark circles under his own eyes; the unkempt status of his hair; the unsightly scarring on his shoulder from the botched re-installations; the unnerving and stark outline of his ribs under his button-down and vest. He looked like a walking scarecrow done up in nice clothes.

"S-so," Rhys said, floundering in the silence, running a hand through his messy hair in a failed attempt to arrange it back to its slicked back state. "You know, when I offered to help you build this wall thing I didn't think you were going to _put me to work_. I was thinking, you know, that I could order some Hyperion goons around. More like something an, uh, I dunno, Atlas CEO might be doing rather than _manual fucking labor._ "

Vaughn smirked a little. "Aw, you mad, bro?"

"A little, yeah!" Rhys said with a feigned huff, nudging Vaughn's arm gently with his elbow. Vaughn didn't exactly jerk away from Rhys, but he notably tensed. Rhys felt it right away. An ache pulsed in his chest as he quickly withdrew from Vaughn and stepped back, trying not to look as horrible as he felt. This was pure and utter torture.

"Well," Vaughn said, clearing his throat, "Loader Bot did like 98% of the work anyway." His smile was fading by the second, backsliding into the strange, distanced mood from earlier.

"That's because LB was made for this kind of thing," Rhys said, trying to keep the conversation afloat, even though the whole interaction really felt more like him dumping buckets of water out of an already half-sunken ship. "My arms, on the other hand—hah, _hand_ —er, this one at least—" he said, stretching out his natural arm, "was not meant for this kind of work. It feels like a wet noodle."

"Looks like one, too."

"Haw haw. You're just being smug because you're ripped as fuck now."

"I'm not being smug. Just saying. A lot has changed since—" he cut himself off, his eyes again searching the ground for something that Rhys knew was not there. The lilting humor and easy tone of his voice from just a couple sentences before had flown the coop, and all that remained came across stripped and bare.

Raw panic tore through Rhys. "You're right," he said, perhaps a little too quickly. He took another step closer to Vaughn, making a tentative gesture by lifting his hand up and somewhat out to Vaughn for a brief moment before pulling it back in. "Look, Vaughn. I…" He took a deep breath. _Now or never._ "I know it's been weird these past few days. Between us. And honestly? I was just so fucking happy to see you alive I didn't care at first. And of course things have changed. Who are we kidding?"

Vaughn swallowed audibly but said nothing, refusing to look at him.

"But then," Rhys's shoulders sagged, "I've been feeling this awful distance, like a _wall_ between us, and I hoped it'd go away over a few days after we caught up. But it hasn't." He paused. "I want to make things right. I want to feel like we're okay."

Vaughn looked up at him then averted his eyes quickly, drawing a loose strand of hair from his face and hooking it behind his ear. "We're okay, Rhys. I mean, for starters, you just saved my ass out there. But really, you're worrying too much. Things will go back to how they were."

"But they haven't, and I'm afraid they won't, and it's driving me insane," Rhys continued, toying with the knuckles of his new cybernetic arm. "And I feel like everyone hates me. N-not you," he said, though a kernel of doubt rolled around in the pit of his gut. "But Fiona definitely does. Sasha went completely rogue and I don't think she ever wants to hear from me again. Even Loader Bot doesn't seem to trust me anymore."

"Can you blame them?"

Rhys flinched a step back. "Harsh, but fair."

"You left them to fend for themselves on Helios while you were doing whatever it is you were doing with _Jack_ —"

"I know it looked bad. And I fucked up. Big. But I _was_ trying to help, in a, uh, roundabout sort of way."

"You don't have to convince me. I believe you," Vaughn said. "But—"

"And I was gonna come back for you."

" _I believe you_ , okay?" Vaughn said, just persistent enough for Rhys to question if Vaughn believed him at all. Vaughn pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. "But, _Rhys,_ what happened with Helios," he started, only to trail off into another awkward silence.

The thought of just _how many dead Hyperions_ Vaughn and the Children of Helios had to drag out of the ruins and bury or leave out for the skags tore through Rhys anew like an electric shock to his port. So many people had died because of him. And Vaughn had seen the carnage firsthand. Shit, he'd had a front-row seat.

And another thought: of Vaughn alone, with nothing to go on for months except for feelings of betrayal, abandonment: of being left for dead by his best friend. Rhys had thoroughly failed him. The small seed of hope that Rhys still held onto to make things right again was crumbling into chaff by the second. He struggled for his breath, like he'd had the wind knocked from his lungs.

"Vaughn," he said, "do you actually think I don't care about what happened to Helios?"

"Honestly, I don't know!" Vaughn said so suddenly that both of them started. They both stared at each other, Rhys wide-eyed, Vaughn's shoulders squared, glaring. " _Do_ you care, Rhys?"

Rhys's mouth fell open. "I—"

"There were _thousands_ of people living up there. Innocent people. How could you just—"

"I _know_ ," Rhys said through gritted teeth.

"Entire _families_ that died. Sure, they were Hyperion. But we were Hyperion too once upon a time."

Rhys blamed himself too, but knowing with an absolute certainty that Vaughn blamed him for everything hit him like the weight of a two-ton anvil dropped on his chest.

"I—" Rhys backed up against the wall. He wasn't prepared for this.

Vaughn cornered him. "And the only people who _did_ manage to get the fuck out of there are just an inconvenience to you now. I get it. You've moved on to bigger and better things. You're Mister Bigshot Atlas CEO now. You don't have time for babysitting."

Anger and hurt both rose up from the depths of Rhys's belly.

"But these people have become _my_ responsibility," Vaughn steamrolled on. "Someone had to take care of them. You sure as shit didn't foot that bill. But for all I knew, you were—" His voice cracked. He swallowed and shook his head, steeling himself. "And you know what? Even through all this, they fucking worship _you_. _You're_ their savior _._ But guess who's kept them alive this whole time? Spoiler alert: _not you!_ " He threw up his arms.

The overwhelming need to shake or slap Vaughn spread through Rhys's palms like a rash. He snatched Vaughn by the arm and dragged him forward so that their faces were inches from each other. Vaughn was still scowling, though he looked about as ready to break as Rhys felt. "Vaughn, listen to me," he started, his entire body trembling. "Every single moment I've spent here has felt like a living fucking nightmare. I haven't slept in days." A sudden pressure surged behind his eyes. "But here I am, trying to do right. By Fiona. Loader Bot. Gortys. By you _._ And prove to myself that I'm not—" he clenched his mechanical hand into a fist at his side, "that I'm not like _him."_ He choked, and rubbed at his eyes that had gone wet around the edges. "I—I'm _trying_. So fucking hard. And if _you_ of all people don't believe me, Vaughn, I—" He let the sentence hang, unsure of what he was even trying to say, or if it even mattered anymore.

The hard lines in Vaughn's forehead softened. "Okay," Vaughn said. "Okay, Rhys. I didn't know. You've just seemed," he rolled his wrist, "I dunno. Dismissive of everything. I wasn't sure what to think. And you haven't exactly let me in these past few days."

"Do you know what it's like to be surrounded by the people who survived the crash that _I_ caused? It—I'm not proud of what I've done. I did what I thought I had to. Jack couldn't get control of Helios again. It would've been— _so much worse_."

Rhys withdrew his hand from Vaughn and rubbed at his elbow, his breaths just as ragged as they were when they entered the greenhouse. He'd rather take another go out in the storm than talk about this. Anything but this.

"I've been trying to hold it together. I can't afford to break right now. There's still a lot for us to deal with. Still a lot for _me_ to deal with."

"Yeah, I get it," Vaughn said quietly. He took a deep breath. "I feel like a raging asshole. I'm so sorry, Rhys. Seriously."

Rhys didn't say anything.

"You don't need to prove anything to anyone. I know you had your reasons. You can leave as soon as we get Gortys back. I—" Vaughn drew in a deep breath. "I'll come visit you in Old Haven. It'll be fine."

Rhys's heart sank. He bit his bottom lip. "I don't want that," he said with the tone of a petulant child, but he couldn't be bothered to care.

"Well, I sure as hell don't want you staying here if it makes you feel like what you just described."

"I don't care. I'd rather stay."

"You're just being stubborn. You don't need to keep punishing yourself. It's not gonna make you feel better," Vaughn said. "I guess I just don't understand why you want to stay so badly."

"Because you're here," Rhys said immediately.

Vaughn didn't react at all, his face going slack with...skepticism? Confusion? Both? Rhys couldn't tell, but neither struck him as particularly encouraging.

Rhys squinted, trying to ward off tears that clung to his eyelids. He lowered his head between his shoulders. He took hold of Vaughn's arm again. "I really thought you were dead, Vaughn," he said, his windpipe clamping up. "I looked for you. I did. But after a few weeks I couldn't bear the thought of finding you dead." He gasped for breath. "I still can't believe you're here. Right here. Right now. In front of me. I feel like such shit about everything that's happened and I know you still resent me for it. I just—I'm so happy you're here I can hardly stand it."

He made a small, strangled sound in the back of his throat that sounded like a sob and slid down to the floor. Vaughn followed him down and crouched beside him, hand steadying on Rhys's shoulder, gentle and supportive.

"Hey, I'm here," Vaughn said, leaning forward to thread himself around Rhys's body. He pulled him into a sudden, awkward embrace. "I'll always be here, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Rhys's entire body seized as another sob trotted from his mouth in broken huffs. He covered his face with his hands.

"Th-there were thousands of people up there _,_ " Rhys said through almost unintelligible stutterings. "You said it yourself. _Thousands_. Just… you know? How can I even live with myself?"

"It'll be okay. I've got you, Rhys. Just—try taking a deep breath."

Vaughn dropped his chin against Rhys's shoulder and exhaled against his neck. Rhys shuddered. Tightening his grip on the threadbare fabric on Vaughn's arm, Rhys breathed in Vaughn's familiar, soothing scent, mucked up with sweat and Pandoran dust but still there nonetheless.

They stayed like that a while. Vaughn traded his uncomfortable crouch for a seated spot beside Rhys, one arm wrapped around Rhys's shoulders as his sobs smoothed into hiccups, and then eventually back into strained breathing through a stuffed up nose. The sandstorm continued to tantrum against the walls and howl. Vaughn had gone quiet for so long Rhys almost thought he'd fallen asleep. But as he lifted his head, Vaughn was watching him carefully, still resting his cheek on Rhys's shoulder. Worry worked into the gentle lines on his forehead. Sitting there, with Vaughn so maddeningly close, sparked that same simmering affection for the man he'd been battling since the day they'd reunited—and that realistically had been there for years, balled up in some forcefully neglected corner of his mind. Rhys wiped at his eyes with the back of his natural hand.

"Vaughn, I'm gonna say something. Don't freak out."

"Okay," Vaughn said at length, a question hidden in there somewhere.

"I know it sounds weird, but for the first time since Helios fell, being here with you," he said, his voice watery and thin, "I haven't felt like I'm drowning. Even though things haven't been good between us. Even though I can't sleep. The nightmares—" he squinted, tears threatening to spill over his already red-rimmed eyelids. "Even with all that, just seeing you—god, this is so stupid. You remind me of when we were just dumb kids with big dreams. Before everything got fucked up beyond all recognition. I miss it so much," he croaked. "Fuck, I'm sorry."

"I know."

Rhys's eyes and jaw ached. His face felt puffy and raw. He tilted his head to get a better look at Vaughn, who had made a small, pained sound and had risen to his knees, starting to pull away. Before Rhys could stop himself, he'd reached for him with his cybernetic hand, snagging Vaughn's forearm.

"Don't—please don't leave," Rhys whispered. Vaughn's eyes were glassy and his mouth parted as if to object, but Rhys rushed forward and kissed him before he could, hard and fast and desperate. Vaughn jerked back and drew in a quick, surprised breath, going stock still. He stared at Rhys with wide eyes.

Rhys had surely ruined everything now. An apt ending to an entire story dedicated to one fuck-up after another, authored by the one and only Rhys the Idiot. But just as Rhys was about to back away for good and find a pit to hurl himself into, Vaughn bridged the gap between them and kissed him back with reckless abandon. He caught the side of Rhys's mouth and pried it open with his own, cupping Rhys's jaw with both hands. A small whimper edged its way out of Rhys's throat and he shut his eyes—losing himself momentarily in Vaughn's rough, chapped lips against his own, the slickness of his tongue, his surprisingly skillful movements. Vaughn's hands trailed down to the bare skin below Rhys's neck and pressed his palms against his warm collarbone, then lower on his chest.

"Please," Rhys breathed into Vaughn's mouth.

And, just like that, Vaughn stopped. He broke the kiss and shied away from Rhys, the bridge of his nose and tops of his cheeks flushing crimson. The horror of rejection rose up in Rhys's gut but neither of them spoke, their labored breaths see-sawing across the painful distance between them. Rhys tilted his head to try and hook Vaughn's gaze again, just to see if he could read what was going on in Vaughn's head. He managed to catch him for just a fragment of a second, but came up even less sure what to make of the shocked, even scared look on Vaughn's face.

"What just happened?" Vaughn said, his voice uneven, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He gave his head an abrupt shake as if trying to knock himself from a dream.

Rhys drew his legs in against his chest and pressed his face between his knees, the swell of heartbreak crashing against his ribcage. He allowed himself a few deep breaths to formulate his thoughts into something coherent.

"I think I'm in love with you," he muttered into his legs.

Silence. Rhys plucked up a shred of courage from within himself to peek up from his legs. Vaughn shook his head a bit slower and touched a hand to his forehead, digging his fingers through his hair. He shut his eyes and winced, the corners of his mouth twitching.

"Rhys, I don't think you—"

"I know what you're thinking," Rhys said, somehow finding his footing even though he'd never felt more fragile and vulnerable in his life. He sat up and swallowed. "That I'm a fucking mess and I'm confusing my happiness that you're alive with something else."

Vaughn met Rhys's eyes evenly. "Well?" 

"I mean, _yes._ I'm a fucking mess. Clearly. But I've had a lot of time to myself— _a lot—_ to think about this. I don't know when it _happened,_ I guess. But seeing you," he said. "Seeing you again. You have to trust me on this."

Vaughn's shoulders slumped against the wall as he leaned back beside Rhys. "You have—" He sighed. "You have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," he finally said. "You have such shit timing, Rhys. _God dammit_."

"I know."

"You know? You know _what_? That I've been pathetically head over heels for you since _college_? That I would've given anything for what just—and now you—you come _back_ —basically from the fucking _dead_ , and now you're in love with me?" A manic, cold laugh rolled off his tongue. "Now that I've blamed you for so many of the things that went wrong, mourned you, tried to move on. Tried to find purpose here on Pandora knowing I'd never see you again? Fucking hell, man. What do you expect me to do?"

"You could kiss me again, for starters," Rhys said sheepishly.

Vaughn blinked. "You did not just say that," he said with a scoff, cracking a small smile despite himself.

Rhys could practically see a piece of Vaughn's tough exterior tear with that small shift of expression. Encouraged, he nudged Vaughn's elbow with his own.

"I know this is sudden and confusing and— _ugh_ —this sucks."

Vaughn stared at his hands. "Understatement of the century." His nose wrinkled the way Rhys remembered whenever he would catch Vaughn hard at work. "I've never been able to get over you. And I've tried. Holy shit have I ever tried." He groaned. "But I really need some time to sort this out."

"I'm willing to wait," Rhys said, grabbing Vaughn's hand and squeezing. "As long as it takes. Okay?"

Vaughn gave a small nod before sliding sideways, setting his head on Rhys's shoulder again. His knees bumped up against Rhys's thigh. He smiled up at Rhys—a true, genuine smile.

"Yeah. Okay," Vaughn said.

Rhys draped his arm around Vaughn—tentatively at first. Vaughn showed no outward sign of unease, and when Rhys looked down at him, Vaughn was still looking up at him through thick eyelashes. Rhys pressed their foreheads together and shut his eyes, listening to their still skittish breathing and the whistling wind dying down.

Vaughn lifted his chin and kissed Rhys again on the mouth, simple and chaste. Rhys kissed him back, careful not to respond too eagerly and risk ruining this. Vaughn pulled away and burrowed his face into Rhys's arm. "Sorry, just had to make sure I didn't imagine the last few minutes."

"Nope, not imagining. Definitely not imagining," Rhys said. "Shit, Vaughn. Since _college._ I didn't—I mean, I didn't think you—"

"Yeah, well," he said, "you're not exactly the most observant person in the world."

"Guess not."

"And it's really not fucking helping that your hair's all messy right now. It kinda looks like it did back then."

Rhys touched his hair self-consciously. "You like?"

"You know I do."

"Noted," he said. Slowly but surely, some relief started to soothe the corners of his aching mind. "Hey Vaughn?"

"Mm?"

"Do you remember when I got offered the job at Hyperion?"

"Of course I remember."

"I—I think it really hit me then," Rhys said. "That week and a half we thought you weren't gonna get offered the job with accounting. I had just been offered what was basically my dream job and I was actually considering turning it down. I just, I dunno. I couldn't imagine my life without you in it anymore. Any alternative felt like, well, _not one_. I didn't want to do it without you."

Vaughn went silent for a moment, digging the heel of his shoe into the ground. "You _were_ being super clingy that whole time. And sappy. Which made my life a living hell." He ran his hand over Rhys's thigh. "I was fucking _beside_ myself, Rhys. _God_ , were we that clueless?"

Rhys sighed. "I was. And way, _way_ too chicken shit to say anything even if I had pieced it all together."

"And for years after that?"

"Said the pot to the kettle."

"That's fair, I guess."

Vaughn looked back up at the solar panel windows. Sand swirled across the dome, lazy and slow. The windows themselves had stopped rattling, downgraded to a low whistle. Rhys followed Vaughn's gaze.

"Back to the base?" Rhys said, hopeful that they could spend even just another minute together, the two of them.

"Soon, yeah. Gotta check up on everyone."

"You worry too much. Always have." Rhys squeezed Vaughn's shoulder. "Vaughn, have I told you lately that you're amazing?"

"Like half an hour ago, but flattery will get you everywhere."

Rhys's heart fluttered. _That's_ the Vaughn he remembered. He could sense fragments of their friendship hidden somewhere under this wreckage. If he had to search for years, he'd gladly do it.

"They're lucky to have you looking after them. I mean, I know how good you are at it; you've been looking after me since basically freshman year. And, not blaming you or anything, but it's really no surprise that the second you let me out of your sight I fucked up."

"Yeah, not taking the blame for that."

"Good."

Rhys could feel Vaughn smile into the sleeve of his jacket. "I am good at this, aren't I?" Vaughn said.

"Bar none the fucking best."

He stroked Vaughn's soft, long hair and Vaughn settled against him. It was perfect, just like this, with Vaughn's hand on Rhys's knee, their bodies warm and pleasantly touching side-by-side. For the first time in days, the silence wasn't riddled with tension and anxiety.  Rhys welcomed it.

After a while, he noticed Vaughn's index finger drawing quick, impatient swirls into Rhys's leg.

"Alright, Bandit King. Let's go check up on your loyal subjects."

"Hey! I'm not the one they're erecting statues for."

"God, that's still really creepy."

"It doesn't get less creepy, trust me."

Rhys begrudgingly untangled himself from Vaughn, who leaped up ahead of him. Vaughn held out his hand to Rhys. Rhys took it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you [coruscera (impractica)](http://archiveofourown.org/users/impractica) for being such an amazing beta!

Rhys's ECHO eye booted up with a mechanical whir. A much more obnoxious, high-pitched series of beeps followed, and Rhys stirred awake with a small moan. He silenced the alarm with a twitchy, wincing blink. Barbed wisps of the nightmares that clawed at him the night through—careening through a sky filled with flames, whispered taunts dogging his heels—started to mercifully recede to the far corners of his mind.

Rolling from his left side onto his back, his eyes sharpened into focus along the crumpled, metal ceiling of what used to be someone's upscale but cramped two-bedroom Helios apartment. It had been months since he'd seen Hyperion living quarters, but he still recognized the layout vaguely from a digital ad Vaughn had sent him a couple years back with the message: "Y/Y? They come with a washer/dryer! Such class. Very luxury." Needless to say, before Helios fell, this apartment was infinitely nicer than the outdated dump he and Vaughn inhabited in the far corners of the space station for years. Rhys thought back with an uncomfortable thread of nostalgia how they'd tentatively planned to move across the space station into an apartment like this after his promised promotion. How appropriate, he thought, that things had come full circle. Rhys's stomach turned.

He sat up, jammed his fingers into the corners of his natural eye to pick out the sleep from it, and hoisted himself out of the bed that had somehow mostly survived the fall along with all the personal effects of the previous tenant—among them, pieces of machinery scattered all around the room, a badass solar-powered soldering iron, and tubes of synthetic grease. Whoever lived there had a thing for robots and, too afraid to ask to stay with Vaughn, Rhys chose to stay in this room so he could rifle through its contents. Vaughn and company had already pilfered its cabinets and pried open the crushed fridge for food and other useful items, but perhaps there was something useful among the wreckage that he could use. He'd dug through the room with more caution than he knew he'd possessed in his entire body, nearly shaking with determination not to let his ECHO eye scan anything that could ID the previous tenant. He didn't want to know.

Other than the soldering iron, there wasn't much to salvage; he or she probably raided the robotics and/or engineering department's trash on a regular basis, rescuing useless scraps from getting airlocked. Rhys picked up a tube of synthetic grease from the collection of six others he'd collected and lined atop the mostly shattered kitchen countertop. He twisted off the cap. Laying his cybernetic arm down, palm up, he slid the narrow applicator tip down into a narrow opening at his wrist. He squeezed the tube, a strange, cool sensation spiking at the center of his shoulder where flesh met metal. He winced, waited, and let it subside before trying to test the movement of his hand. Grains of sand still held fast inside the machinery from getting caught in the sandstorm the day before, making a subtle but noticeable crunching sound when he curled his fingers. His hand gave off an overworked mechanical smell the longer he strained his palm. Tongue caught between his teeth, he applied some more grease to the tiny joints at each knuckle and worked it in until the movements smoothed out. Small beads of grease dripped down his fingers, but he caught them with his natural hand and pressed the oil back into the joints. Wiping the grease off on his boxers, he went back to work, making sure each joint had been properly oiled.

Times like these made him miss his Hyperion-issued arm. The titanium finish on his new one looked perhaps nicer than the matte Hyperion yellow, but the guts were far less sophisticated. It jammed easier. It snagged on nerves in his shoulder more frequently. Perhaps the greatest loss was that some of the memories involving his old arm were also tangled up in memories of Vaughn: of him doing maintenance on his arm just after the surgery, his thick eyebrows furrowed and his mouth screwed up in concentration. Of Vaughn beaming up at him with nothing but complete and utter pride when Rhys finally managed to circle his hand around a coffee mug and take a drink—

But even brighter flashed the memories of Jack's viral coding seizing up Rhys's entire arm, making his port burn white-hot with overburden. Battling Jack's will and failing— _failing so fucking hard._ Rhys shivered with the thought of how Jack had turned him into his own personal marionette, stripping Rhys of his autonomy, literally strong-arming control over him.

Overcome with the urgent need to leave the room, he capped the tube of grease, gave his arm one final flex, and dressed quickly. He cringed as he buttoned his shirt, all-too aware that it reeked of stale sweat and that his nice jacket had been stained with red Pandoran sand. So much for keeping up appearances on Pandora. He nudged aside the rags Vaughn had drawn up across the doorframe for privacy and walked into the hallway.

One of the Children of Helios was standing watch only a few feet away from Rhys's room. Upon seeing Rhys, she immediately froze, shoulders squared, and backed against the wall so Rhys could pass.

"Good morning, Rhys, sir!" she said, harboring a tinge of awe in her voice.

Reverence. Power. Fame— _well, infamy,_ really. Rhys had really been given almost everything he'd always dreamed of, yet now he couldn't shake the way his chest tightened and burned with self-loathing at the mere thought.

He raked his teeth over his upper lip. "Um, hi." Her presence made him acutely aware of his hair, which was still mussed from sleep. He ran a hand through it. "Can I help you?" Rhys said.

"No," she said, shoulders creeping up, up. She grinned. "Don't worry, sir. Vaughn stationed me here."

Oh," Rhys said, suddenly filled with more questions than answers. "Is he—?"

She glanced down the hall in the direction of Vaughn's quarters. "Still asleep, I think. He's scheduled to wake up at 08:00 hours." Rhys pondered for a moment which department in Hyperion she had been part of before Helios fell. Something about the placating inflection of her voice screamed PR. "But there's some breakfast and coffee in the war room. Fiona should be there by now," she said. "You're still on schedule to leave at 09:00 hours."

"Great," Rhys said, rolling his eyes. As he brushed past the Child of Helios for the nearest exit, a small twinge of needling guilt descended upon him out of nowhere. He slowed and turned around. She'd already headed off in the other direction, her boot heels tapping against the floor. "Oh, um!" Rhys said, louder than he'd intended, raising his hand as if to stop her.

She spun around, an expectant, toothy smile flashing across her pointed face. "Yes, sir?"

"Thanks?" he tried. All right, so it came out awkward and disingenuous—exactly what he _didn't_ intend—but she smirked in response.

"Don't thank me," she said. "It was Vaughn's idea." And just like that, she continued on her way.

 

After a quick stop by the only bathroom on the base that had its pipes hooked up to anything resembling running water, Rhys ducked into the entrance to the war room. Fiona side-eyed him from across the long conference table, nursing a cup of coffee with a pained squint.

"Nice hair, dick," she muttered.

"I told you not to drink too much of that Pandoran moonshine," Rhys said, somewhat sing-song, as he took a seat across from her.

"I'll be fine. Just—" She winced. "Don't talk to me. Your voice is pissing me off."

Rhys snorted. "Excited to see Athena?"

Fiona scowled at him. "Actually, yes. I do feel largely responsible for what happened to her, unlike some people who go through life giving approximately zero shits for the things they've done."

Rhys's shoulders tensed and he looked away. Hearing it a second time didn't sting any less; he couldn't even muster a retort to sling back at her. He reached over and snatched up a hard boiled rakk egg from a plate in the center of the table surrounded by a handful of Pandoran fruit dotted with shimmery protuberances like glassy eyes. Passing the egg to his cybernetic hand, he squeezed it just enough for a single crack to splinter up through the shell. Rhys busied himself with the egg, refusing to look at Fiona, flaking the pieces of shell and thin layer of membrane on the table.

Fiona set the coffee on the table and tipped it back with her index finger. Its contents threatened to spill over but didn't. "Vaughn seemed to be in good spirits last night."

Rhys tried to shrug that off, though his chest filled with warmth at the thought of Vaughn's gaze lingering on him throughout the night. Of course he'd noticed. "We talked some things through yesterday. When we got caught in the storm."

" _Did_ you, now? Well, that's something. Honestly more than I'd expect from y—"

"Would you _lay off?_ Holy hell. What is _with_ you this morning?"

"All right. _Fine._ Fine." Fiona sighed and took another sip of her coffee. "So," she said at length, "is he coming with us?"

"Nah, I don't think so. He's—" He pressed the toe of his boot into the floor. "There are some things he wants to do before we get everyone rounded up. I think he wants to be 100% certain his plan will work, even though it totally will. You know how Vaughn is. I've never seen so many clipboards in one place in my life."

"You think the Eye of Helios will be enough?"

"If it's not, nothing will be. I trust Vaughn's calculations." He paused. "I trust him."

Fiona's eyes narrowed. "What'd you say to him yesterday, exactly?"

"What do you mean?"

"No offense, but—"

"Isn't it a little late for disclaimers like that?"

"—but one doesn't just start trusting someone again after a fuck-up _that_ big just because of one measly conversation."

"Oh, he didn't. He doesn't, believe me," Rhys said, the persistent sting of truth sweeping down across his entire abdomen. "But we've been best friends for years. We can get through this. I told him I'd do better. Not that I could do any worse, I guess."

Fiona made a soft scoffing sound in the back of her throat. "Pathetic. After everything, he's still in love with you."

Hearing it from someone else's mouth struck him sideways and made him panicky and, _god,_ Fiona knew too? Of course she did.

" _Was_ ," Rhys corrected, trying to play it cool and failing. "He _was_. Now I'm—well, I still don't know where he stands on that. Not that any of this is your business at all." He glared at Fiona.

Fiona's eyebrows shot up. The coffee mug clattered back onto the table. "Wait, so you knew? This whole time?"

"No!" Rhys said. "He—he told me yesterday."

A cruel smile flickered across her face. "A-ha! I knew something like that went down. And you—" Her mouth fell open, piecing together the gaps in the story. "You must've told him you felt the same," she said quietly. "That's the only explanation for why he looked so happy last night." Something like disgust crossed her features. "God, Rhys, why did you—?"

" _Why?_ Because it's true!" he said, so taken aback he slammed his metal fist on the table. "And if it matters at all, I told him first. Before he said anything."

Fiona stared him down for a good solid couple seconds before settling back down into the rolling chair. She crossed her arms. "You had one helluva way of showing it these past few months."

"Yeah, well—!" Rhys lifted his arms in a confused, frantic gesture. "I dunno what to tell you. I _know._ " He didn't want to go through this again. He _couldn't_ go through this again. "But come on, Fiona. Why the fuck would I lie to Vaughn about something like that?"

Fiona made an exasperated sound. "Listen, I want to trust you. Well and truly, kid. But I'm _wary_ , to put it feather lightly. You have to at least let me have that. And I'm not Vaughn. I don't forgive that easily."

"Okay, fine. But you're seriously delusional if you think I'd ever do that to him," he muttered. "At least let _me_ have _that_."

"I hope for your own sake that you're right." She leaned forward and crossed her legs. "Listen to me, Rhys," she said, her voice lowered. "He seems genuinely happy here. And I don't want you fucking this up for him. Not again. He's been through enough. _You_ put him through enough. You can apologize all day long, proclaim your undying love, _whatever,_ but at the end of the day, Vaughn spent the better part of a year trying to clean up the mess _you_ made."

"You think I don't know that?"

"You really need to make it up to him. And not just by talking your way back onto his good side like you do with everyone else. _Show_ him or get the fuck out. Actually, maybe you should do that anyway, just to be safe."

"I'm _trying_ to make it up to _all_ of you, okay?" Rhys pressed his palm to the center of his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. "Can we just—let's go get Athena and call it a day? I _really_ don't need the third degree from you right now."

"Yeah, yeah," Fiona said. She straightened and flexed her shoulders against the back of the chair, apparently content with how the disaster of a conversation went.

"Fucking hell," Rhys breathed. He stood up, his hard-boiled rakk egg only halfway peeled. "I need to—I'll be back in a bit," he said, weaving his way around the jungle of chairs and out the way he came.

"Don't be late!" Fiona called after him, snatching the egg from the table.

Rhys tore out of the war room and slowed his pace just outside, taking a deep breath before continuing along a well-worn footpath, exposed to the already sweltering Pandoran sun's heat. He doubled back for what Vaughn had jokingly called the "barracks," the cluster of inner apartments—his own included—that had been cushioned by so much metal and insulation that they'd all mostly remained intact after the crash, if a little (or a lot) worse for wear. Wiping at his hairline to keep the sweat from settling there, he beelined for his own room, already desperate for some peace and quiet, dreading the rest of the day cooped up in the caravan with Fiona. Loader Bot might be able to temper her temper, though these days even Loader Bot held distinct reservations about Rhys that he hadn't expected or particularly enjoyed thinking about.

He climbed up into a small passageway fringed with split and frayed cables sticking out of the rough edges. Dropping down into the hallway, he passed under a narrow beam of light that stretched across a section of the walls where a tear split open the ceiling. Rhys approached Vaughn's room, which had a cloth curtain hung up from the top of the broken door and his name scrawled in his recognizably awful handwriting over the top of the doorframe in faded permanent marker. He paused a few paces past the door, musing over how Vaughn had even gotten up there to mark his territory.

The corner of his ECHO eye flashed the time. 8:05. Anxiety spread through his body like wildfire, and he lifted his hand tentatively, contemplating knocking on the side of the door to say goodbye, or wondering if that would be too sappy, too overbearing. Too desperate. The sound of blankets rustling threw him for an odd, giddy loop, and he backtracked. With only a few seconds of hesitation, he knocked.

"Vaughn?" he said quietly.

Silence, and then the sound of bare feet padding across the flooring. Vaughn ducked under the curtain and squinted up at Rhys. His hair hung loose and tangled in the back from sleep, the tips brushing just past his shoulders. Vaughn scratched just below his collarbone, unapologetically bare-chested with a pair of thin, loose pants hanging from his hips that he very well might've sewn himself. Rhys's mouth went dry and he found himself stumbling over his tongue for something to say that would make any kind of sense. He'd never seen Vaughn like this, he realized. Overtired with dark circles under his eyes, yes, probably hundreds of times—especially during their college years. But not like _this_.

Vaughn's eyes were still fogged over from sleep, though a sharp tension threaded through his posture. He blinked, realizing within seconds that it was Rhys, and fell back against the doorframe, his entire body relaxing.

"Oh," he said. "That didn't sound like you. I thought—never mind, sorry."

Rhys forced himself to pry his appraising stare away from Vaughn, peering in through the parted curtain and into Vaughn's room.

"No worries. I just, um," Rhys stuttered. "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"No, no," Vaughn said. "Been up a little while. Making notes about what we have to do today." He rubbed at his eyes. "Okay, I might've fallen back to sleep."

Rhys chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "Sorry."

"Nah, I really needed to get up anyway."

"I just wanted to say bye before we take off."

Vaughn averted his eyes to his feet and rubbed at his elbow.

"We should be be back tonight," Rhys said quickly, "if everything goes well. And if Fiona doesn't kill me first."

"What did you do this time?"

" _Nothing!_ She's just hella hungover this morning and in rare form. Whatever you guys brewed up hit her like a hammer to the head after she fell asleep. So now she's practically snarling into her coffee. It's charming, really."

"I told her to take it easy," Vaughn said with a sigh.

"Yeah, well, she didn't listen to either of us, then."

"Oh god, and she's gonna see Athena for the first time since—"

"Yup. And that would be why she didn't listen to us."

"Girl's got it bad."

"Like, the worst," Rhys said. Their eyes met and Rhys consciously directed his gaze to the floor, snagging on Vaughn's bare abs on the way down. Smooth.

"Okay," Vaughn said, chewing the inside of his cheek. "So you're sure Athena's there? And it's not like—a trap or anything? Shit, I didn't even think that it might be a trap until now." He dug the tip of his bare foot into the floor.

"I don't think it's a trap. I don't really know who'd be after me at this point."

"That's exactly the problem. You don't _know_."

Rhys swallowed. "That's true. But I think it'll be fine. Plus, Yvette scored me another stun baton. Ehh? And everyone said fencing would be useless!"

Vaughn cracked a small smile as he leaned forward and glanced down the hall before stepping aside, drawing the curtain back. "Do you want to come in? When do you have to leave?"

Rhys brightened at the invitation. "Not for like an hour or something," he said, waving his hand away, already ducking under the curtain and into Vaughn's room. Rhys couldn't find it within himself to be shocked by the tidy nature of Vaughn's room: papers neatly organized into piles, somehow even more clipboards, a couple pairs of shoes along the near wall—including his favorite, comfortable pair that trekked all over Pandora. A suspicious hole the size of a bullet bored into the toe of one of them. Vaughn's Atlas watch and, more importantly, his Hyperion-issued glasses, lay side by side on the bedside table. Vaughn sidled up to Rhys and crossed his arms, glancing around the room as if looking at it for the first time.

"Remember when we wanted to live in these apartments?" Vaughn said.

"I was just thinking about that this morning, actually," Rhys said.

"It's really weird to think that that was only like a year ago."

"Yeah."

Rhys and Vaughn under one roof again. The wave of nostalgia nearly bowled Rhys over: late nights of board games and video games and studying for tests, of falling asleep together on the couch with reruns of their favorite shows cycling through until morning. Of long days on Helios, dragging their heels across the threshold of their shared apartment, sinking into the couch and venting about shitty days and backstabbing coworkers. It all rushed back into him in a flash, leaving him nearly breathless and yearning for those days again.

"Why'd you station a guard outside my door this morning?"

Vaughn's eyebrows steadily rose up on his forehead. "Well, you weren't supposed to see her."

"Yeah, I think she missed that memo then." Rhys laughed.

"What part of 'be neither seen nor heard' is so hard to understand?" he said, though the easy tone of his voice made it clear he meant no true criticism of her by it.

"Mm, well, so much for your covert operation, Vaughn. _Busted._ "

"Disobeying orders just to get a glimpse of her savior. Should've known." He _tsk_ ed.

"Totally understandable. I mean _look_ at me. I'm practically a god."

Vaughn rolled his eyes, that genuine smile curling up the corners of his mustache in a way that made Rhys's stomach drop. "Oh yeah, you're _brimming_ with god vibes."

They both laughed, awkward and clumsy and self-conscious. Rhys decidedly didn't care.

"Did you think I was, like, I dunno, gonna take off in the middle of night or something?"

" _What?_ No, of course not. I'm not _that_ paranoid. And if you wanted to, I wouldn't try to stop you. Not like you're under house arrest or anything."

"I wouldn't just up and leave," Rhys said, "without telling you."

"I know." Vaughn shifted his weight to his other foot and scratched at his elbow some more. "You mentioned that you've been having nightmares. I told her to come and get me if she could hear you."

Rhys's mouth fell open a notch. If he hadn't been hyper-aware of Vaughn's understandable need for space and time, he would've kissed him right there without hesitation. As it stood, Rhys had resolved to tread lightly despite how much he wanted Vaughn, how an ache low in his belly ignited just by being in Vaughn's presence. Despite how much Vaughn clearly still cared about him as his best friend and how much Rhys loved him.

"Vaughn," was all he could say. He swallowed down the knot in his throat. "There are more efficient ways to put the Children of Helios to work, you know."

"Yeah, I know," said Vaughn, the tops of his cheeks coloring with embarrassment.

"That's really good of you. Seriously, thanks. But I guess the joke's on me: my brain must've subconsciously known because I still had the nightmares, just apparently minus the screaming awake part that normally tags along."

Vaughn reached up and slid his hand over Rhys's natural arm. "I'm sorry, Rhys."

Rhys shrugged his cybernetic shoulder, trying his best not to let Vaughn's warm, strong hand gently squeezing his arm get the best of him. "It's okay. I mean, it sucks, don't get me wrong. But I'll live."

Vaughn's gaze darted from his bed back to Rhys.

Rhys caught the exchange but said nothing, a shudder creeping from the outside in. Instead, he moved toward the bed and, eager to change the subject, snatched Vaughn's old accountant glasses from the bedside table. The glass bottle green tint of the lenses looked somewhat faded in the dim light.

"God, now these are a true Hyperion relic," Rhys said. He held up the glasses and arranged them in front of him so that they lined up with Vaughn's face even though he stood some feet away. "I didn't think you still had them. Thought you might've lost them or something."

"Nope, still got 'em. Their super powerful calculator helped me figure the energy output for the Eye of Helios. Among other things."

Rhys was flooded with imagery of Vaughn grudgingly accepting his first pair, self-consciously touching the frames, pushing them further up the bridge of his nose every few minutes. He bemoaned their distinct "nerd" aesthetic that Vaughn had hoped to abandon post-college. Rhys had accidentally broken the first pair—snapping the frames in half and crushing the lenses like a thin sheet of ice, caught between the metal of his clenched fist and the bathroom counter. Vaughn had rushed in to Rhys screaming on the floor, clutching at his head, his arm seizing and shocking him in equal measure. He'd insisted, despite Vaughn's refusal, to pay for the replacement; after shelling out two paydays worth of cash to replace them, he knew why Vaughn had been so adamantly opposed.

Rhys peered up into the lenses. A long scratch etched clear across the center of the left lens, and smaller ones worried the sides of both.

"There's scratches on them."

"Yeah?"

"I thought I got you the super badass scratch-proof lenses."

"You definitely couldn't afford those."

"But you told me that's how much those cost."

"Right, about that." Vaughn scratched the back of his neck. "I definitely lied. Even the cheapest ones—the model you've got in your hands—were expensive enough as it was. I didn't want you to feel bad that you broke my super sweet pair."

"Oh. Sorry," was all Rhys could think to say.

"No sorry necessary. All of that shit's in the past, now. None of it matters anymore."

The comment landed innocently enough, but a sharp pain stabbed through Rhys's gut all the same. Guilt tremored through his body like a rattled cage. He lowered his hand so that Vaughn's glasses hung limply from his thumb and forefinger at his side.

A pitiful laugh fell flat in the back of his throat. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

 _None of it matters anymore._  Meanwhile, everything that _did_ matter hinged on Rhys's fuck-up, the literal fall of Helios that crowned Rhys's metaphorical fall from grace. All those years building up trust with Vaughn—the college days, the Helios grind—didn't matter anymore. And why should it? What mattered was right in front of them: a heaping pile of death and disaster that Vaughn had been tirelessly trying to clean up for months.

Rhys took a wobbly step back, plagued with the idea that he'd overstayed his welcome in Vaughn's room. The base. Everywhere he set foot on Pandora. Fiona was right: he'd be doing everyone, Vaughn especially, a favor by leaving, despite knowing full well that simply being around Vaughn brought him the only joy he'd known in months.

"Rhys, you okay?" Vaughn said. He lifted his hand as if to touch Rhys again, but Rhys flinched back. He scooted sideways and inched away from the bed, desperate for an escape.

"Fine. I'm fine. I, uh, I think I should go. Get ready. Big day and all," he said, forcing another laugh. He tripped over his own foot but caught himself before gravity could drag him down.

"Hey, just—wait a second, will you?"

Rhys snapped out of the fog of panic long enough to see Vaughn standing a few paces away from him, confusion wearing into his features.

"I'm sorry," Rhys said, stopping. Still clutching Vaughn's glasses, he turned them over in his hand. He held them out to Vaughn. "Sorry," he said again.

Vaughn narrowed the gap between them, striding up to Rhys with that same confident gait Rhys couldn't help but gawk at since the day they reunited. Taking the glasses from Rhys's hand, he gazed up at Rhys, searching his eyes.

"Rhys," Vaughn said, reaching up and touching his jaw. He brushed his thumb just below his lips. Rhys tried to shy away, but Vaughn's newly calloused fingertips set a small flame somewhere in the center of his chest that he didn't want to snuff out no matter how much he knew he should. "You _are_ coming back, right?" he said, skepticism worming its way through his tone.

"Does it even matter?"

Vaughn's eyes widened. "Of course it—Rhys, _yes_. It matters. It matters to me, okay?" He lowered his hand. "You can't just—not after what we—" Vaughn made a frustrated sound. Glasses still held loosely in his hand, he grasped at Rhys's button-down, just below the sharp vee of bare skin that revealed the upward curve of his tattoo beneath his breastbone. Tugging him down, Vaughn lifted himself onto the tips of his toes and kissed him.

Rhys would've staggered back if Vaughn's tight grip wasn't keeping him firmly in place. His eyes snapped open with initial shock and panic, but the gentle nudge of Vaughn's tongue against his parted lips pulled him into the moment: of Vaughn's bare chest just a hair's width away from touching Rhys's, and of Vaughn's hand drifting down to the lowermost button on Rhys's shirt and holding there. Vaughn rubbed the face of the button with his thumb, hesitant.

A full-body shudder worked its way out through Rhys's fingertips and toes. He bent down and kissed Vaughn back, half-dazed by how familiar the shape and taste of his lips seemed already—how comfortable they felt against his. This felt right. Even if every touch burned in the back of his mind with what Rhys knew to be a huge mistake. Even if Vaughn was doing this out of pity or wanted the closure of playing out the ghost of a fantasy he'd harbored years ago when he still loved Rhys. But Rhys kissed back all the same, needy and selfish, biting at the corner of Vaughn's lip.

A vulnerable whimper tumbled from Vaughn's mouth. He guided him back toward the bed Rhys had just tried to avoid for all its implications. Rhys's calf bumped the edge of the bed. Vaughn sat down, encouraging Rhys to do the same with a slight tug before letting him go. Rhys paused a second before joining him, dropping beside Vaughn with far less grace, overwarm and flustered and now starting to feel skittish as their conversation the day before resurfaced. Vaughn didn't want this, Rhys realized even as Vaughn set the accounting glasses on the bed, his hands immediately finding flushed skin at Rhys's collarbone and neck.

"Vaughn," Rhys said, his voice tight and restrained.

Vaughn's hands immediately fell away from Rhys's throat and he pulled back.

"Are you okay?" Vaughn said, breathless.

Rhys's shoulders sloped downward. He breathed in and out through his mouth. "I dunno. Yesterday you said you needed time to sort this through, and I mean— _yes,_ definitely. But like—shit, I dunno. I was thinking longer than half a day? Or something. Not that we should be counting. But I don't—" He touched his temple and raked his fingertips through the untamed curls, unable to look Vaughn in the eyes. "To be completely honest with you, I _really_ want this. Like so bad. But I don't want to hurt you any more than I already have. You don't deserve that. You didn't deserve any of this."

The creases in Vaughn's forehead deepened. He took up Rhys's cybernetic hand in his own and held it between them. "I do need time, Rhys. It's going to be a lot to work through. I'm not kidding myself. But _this,_  right now? Feels right to me. And, I dunno," he said, looking away. "Maybe it'll help us sort things out." He glanced sidelong at Rhys. "Am I totally wrong? Did I completely misread why you came here this morning?"

"I wasn't _planning_ on anything when I stopped by. Seriously," Rhys said. "But you're not totally wrong, no." He pressed his palms to his forehead and slid them back over the top of his head, smoothing his hair down. "You're right. As usual. I just kind got to thinking this morning that it'd be better for me to leave and let you move on with your life without me holding on, following you around and making you miserable."

"You do realize that leaving now would be the exact opposite of being better for anyone, myself included. Right? I know where you're coming from, but it's a load of skagshit. I want you here."

Rhys stared at the Hyperion yellow bedspread beneath him.

"As long as you don't disappear on me again, we can figure this out together. Okay?"

Rhys looked at Vaughn then, who was gazing up at him sadly, his eyebrows drawn up with worry. Guilt stamped down the hope lifting from his belly. "Yeah," he said, nodding once. "Okay."

"And if _I'm_ being honest, I really want to kiss you again. Is that okay?"

A flicker of a smile curled up one corner of Rhys's lips. "Me too. Uh, I mean. I want to kiss you, too."

Vaughn touched Rhys's jaw again and traced a finger around the shell of his ear, hooking a lock of hair behind before leaning up to kiss him again. His other hand found Rhys's chest, palm laying flat before he pushed him, guiding him onto his back. Rhys didn't resist, and Vaughn followed, propping himself sideways and up on one elbow so that he could lean over Rhys. Vaughn's long hair hung down and tickled Rhys's collarbone as he bent down pressed their lips together. Half-humming, half-moaning, Rhys slipped his cybernetic arm down Vaughn's spine, resting it at the small of his back. Vaughn thumbed open the first couple buttons of Rhys's shirt with one hand; something about the casual, practiced motion almost gave Rhys pause, but as Vaughn tilted his head and ducked back in, the inviting heat of Vaughn's mouth distracted him from wondering too much. Their teeth clacked together. Vaughn jerked back and laughed, his pupils wide and dark.

"Ow," Vaughn said, running his tongue over the top row of teeth. "Sorry. Out of practice." He gave Rhys an apologetic half-smile. His shoulders tipped upward, another one of Old Vaughn's nervous tells. The sight of it sent a jolt of pressure to Rhys's groin, and in that moment he needed Vaughn so much closer. Carding his hand through Vaughn's hair, he curled his fingers around the nape of his neck. He tugged.

"Come here," Rhys said.

Vaughn's gaze drifted down to Rhys's abdomen. He swallowed. Swinging one leg over Rhys, he shifted his position easily, sliding on top of Rhys's narrow frame. His ankles brushed against Rhys's thighs, knees pressed into the mattress as he seated himself comfortably just below Rhys's navel. Rhys took in the sight of Vaughn straddling him with a hitch of panic; he couldn't fuck this up. After one of the longest streaks of fuck-ups in the history of man, it ended here. It had to—for Vaughn's sake.

And surprisingly, so far so good, Rhys thought, noticing the quickened rise and fall of Vaughn's chest, his face somewhat pink. The thin pants he was wearing did very little to conceal the outline of his hard cock straining against the fabric. Rhys couldn't tamp down a small grin.

"What?" Vaughn said, actually managing to sound annoyed. Pandoran Vaughn still didn't take well to teasing, it seemed.

"Nothing," Rhys said, touching Vaughn's muscled thighs that held him down. "You're just—you're really hot."

Vaughn snorted and rolled his eyes. "And here I am actually trying to _not_ look at you because if I do, this might end way sooner than either of us would like."

"For what it's worth, same. Have you looked at yourself, lately?"

Vaughn's shoulders drooped back down and he leaned in to Rhys again, the kisses slow and deliberate and loose-lipped. Rhys met every one with an eagerness he truly thought he was incapable of feeling after these last few months. Meanwhile, Vaughn busied himself with unbuttoning the rest of Rhys's shirt. He made quick work of it and pushed the fabric apart, revealing Rhys's slight chest, the gentle dip of his tattoo that spanned across his chest and onto his natural arm. Vaughn kissed Rhys's collarbone then traveled lower, sucking at the top of one of the tattooed shapes. His lips traced the simple design before he hopped to the next one over. He swiped his tongue across one of Rhys's nipples, a sensation Rhys hadn't expected to feel as good as it did. His cock twitched, already hard and pressed firmly against Vaughn's ass. Vaughn rolled his hips downward, putting more pressure on him. Clutching Vaughn's thighs, Rhys moaned, lifting his own hips to meet him halfway.

Vaughn stretched back out on top of Rhys, kissing the flat plane of his abdomen, running his fingers along the ridges of Rhys's ribs. Vaughn said nothing about the way each bone cast a dull, striped shadow on Rhys's skin, that they were stark and worrying and spoke to how Pandora had dragged him through his very own personal hell. But Vaughn held his hands there, damp with sweat, and swept his thumb over his bony sides with just enough care for Rhys to know that he noticed.

Vaughn peeled back the fabric of Rhys's shirt past the area where skin met metal at Rhys's shoulder. The scar tissue, still fresh and pink and horribly tortured looking, made Rhys cringe the second Vaughn's halting gaze landed there. But Vaughn made no expression of disgust. Instead, he frowned and scooted forward again on Rhys's torso, bending down to kiss the metal plate adjacent to his breastbone.

"God, Rhys. I'm sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay," Rhys said. It hadn't been okay those dreadful months ago when he found himself alone, terrified and shivering with high fever, barely staving off infection from his body's rejection of the new mechanical wiring across his sternum and behind his eye.

Vaughn didn't ask any questions. He simply stared at Rhys's mechanical arm, but the look in his eyes told Rhys everything he needed to know. Rhys turned his head away, his cheek hitting the bedspread. A strange flood of shame and failure rushed through him like a breached dam.

"Hey," Vaughn said, snapping his attention to Rhys. "Look at me."

Rhys did.

Vaughn opened his mouth to say something but settled for another kiss, harder than before, their lips already swollen and red. He buried his face just beneath Rhys's ear and nipped at his neck; goosebumps prickled across the hollow of Rhys's throat.

"I want to suck you off," Vaughn muttered into his neck.

Rhys laughed, partially grateful to Vaughn for not prodding—not _judging_ —and partially as an immediate, stunned reaction to hearing those words come out of his best friend's mouth.

"Um," Rhys said. "I—yes? Okay? Okay," Rhys said, having to steel himself just with the thought alone.

Vaughn gave Rhys's shoulder a gentle peck before shifting back down the length of Rhys's torso until about halfway down his thighs. His hair trailed across Rhys's belly, groin, the tops of his thighs. The gentle weight of his fingers settled at the waistband of Rhys's trousers. Rhys took a deep breath and watched as a small, needy ache bloomed low in his stomach. Vaughn unbuckled his belt and dove straight for the fly, unbuttoning and unzipping and _holy shit,_ Rhys thought, _this is happening._ Vaughn palmed Rhys's cock over his trousers with one hand and snuck his hand under the elastic of Rhys's underwear with the other. The second Vaughn grazed the base of his cock, Rhys's hips jerked.

"Sorry," he said.

"It's fine," Vaughn said, tugging Rhys's trousers and underwear down a just enough to nudge his cock free. Both of them drew in a breath together and exchanged nervous smiles. Vaughn paused, hunched over him, quick glances sweeping over each part of Rhys. The moment seemed to freeze in time—burning into the back of Rhys's eyelids. His entire body thrummed, giddy with the good kind of tension, and so, _so_ eager. Vaughn glanced at Rhys again, biting his bottom lip.

And then he was leaning down, tilting his head sideways to run his wetted lips along the length of Rhys's cock, nibbling gently at the foreskin gathered at the tip. He straightened and dropped down, his warm mouth closing around him. A sharp gasp forced its way out of Rhys's throat. His head fell back, the muscles in his abdomen flexing.

"God," he hissed.

Vaughn bobbed his head once, twice, then drew back, perhaps sensing that Rhys was already painfully on the brink, wound tight like a rolled spool of thread. Rhys's cybernetic hand found the crown of Vaughn's head and he pulled, gently, at a snarl of tangled hair. Vaughn looked up at Rhys through half-lidded eyes and breathed onto the wet, sensitive skin, his mouth parted and poised to start again. He wrapped a hand around the length and slowly pulled back the hood of foreskin down before swirling his tongue around the smooth head of Rhys's cock.

"Vaughn," Rhys whimpered, his grip on Vaughn's hair tightening. "That—nngh, god—" His toes curled in his boots, feet scraping the floor.

A heavy tension in Rhys's groin clenched like a fist. He shuddered as Vaughn took most of his length in his mouth with ease. The sight stirred up myriad desires, the predominant one consisting of bucking his hips until Vaughn's lips touched the base of his cock and the soft hair of his beard brushed against his pelvis. But Rhys held back, struck with the pressing need to make it up to Vaughn—to prove to him that he wasn't the selfish asshole they both knew he was. Part of him instantly regretted when he propped himself up on his cybernetic arm and tugged Vaughn's hair to draw his attention; Vaughn paused, Rhys's dick still half in his mouth, and looked up at him through thick lashes.

Words and any semblance of coherence abandoned Rhys's brain at the sight before him. At a near complete loss, he dropped his hand to Vaughn's toned forearm and tugged again. That, Vaughn seemed to understand; he withdrew and scooted forward a bit with a questioning quirk in the line of his mouth, the outline of his cock in his pants persistent and now painfully close to Rhys's. Vaughn lifted himself up and Rhys bent forward to kiss him. Rhys buried his fingers in Vaughn's beard as their mouths met again. Before the thought could leave him, Rhys stroked Vaughn through his pants, mapping the slight curve and length. Vaughn hummed low in his throat and rolled his hips into Rhys's hand until his breath hitched.

Dragging Vaughn by the waist a little closer, Rhys fumbled with the first button with one hand, then more of the same with the second as he resorted to manhandling them out of the button holes. His mind shot back to how adept Vaughn had been at this, and the only fully formed thought was that of missed opportunities. How many chances at this could they have had if they'd gotten over themselves long enough to admit to each other that they'd wanted something close to this for years?

But, for better or for worse, _this_ was happening, right here, right now. And while nothing would ever be worth the shame, the nightmares, the guilt that snarled up in Rhys's very being, those permanent stains on his conscience at the very least faded into something temporarily less devastating for the moment.

Vaughn bit Rhys's bottom lip as Rhys slipped his hand under Vaughn's underwear and touched him. That unto itself might've yanked Rhys right over the edge if he hadn't shut his eyes and centered himself. _Not yet_. He drew his hand up, sweaty palms mingling with the already damp tip of Vaughn's cock. Kissing Vaughn's jaw, Rhys wrestled with the fabric of Vaughn's pants and underwear, growing impatient with the need to touch Vaughn again without hindrance. He laughed sheepishly, somewhat embarrassed with his lack of finesse, his inexperience on full display. But Vaughn caught on quick and lent him a hand, lifting his hips to free himself.

"Much better." Rhys said. He went straight for Vaughn's cock, closing his fingers over his thick length and pumping downward. Vaughn arched his back, stifling a moan and exposing a tanned and lightly freckled plane of soft skin along his neck. Rhys's eyes went wide; even with Vaughn's dick in his hand, the lovely bend of Vaughn's throat that led to his even lovelier chest somehow flustered him more.

Readjusting his cybernetic arm under him to sit up a bit higher, he licked a stripe down Vaughn's neck. Vaughn gasped and, in a somewhat uncharacteristic scramble, rebalanced himself atop Rhys's thighs so that his cock angled even closer to Rhys's, not even a fingernail's width away from touching. Rhys wet his lips before taking up both their dicks in his hand, giving them both a gentle stroke. They both sucked in a sharp inhale at the sensation, at the friction of their cocks sliding together and against Rhys's hand. Rhys breathed out through his nose and withdrew for a necessary moment to lick his palm before resuming his position.

Vaughn hunched his back, the muscles in his arms taut and trembling as he dug his hands into the mattress. He tipped his head back, long, thick hair hanging down his past his shoulder blades. Rhys moved his hand up and ran his thumb over the head of Vaughn's dick, watching with an increasing tightness gripping his stomach as a guttural moan parted Vaughn's lips. Rhys loosened his hold and paused.

"Are you—is this okay?" he managed, his breathing skittish and shallow.

Vaughn gasped again. "Don't stop," he said hoarsely, eyes squeezed shut.

Rhys hesitated, but Vaughn circled his own hand on top of Rhys's and squeezed.

"Please," Vaughn said.

A hard jolt struck Rhys's groin. He twisted his fingers over the tips of their cocks and dropped back down, keeping his grasp firm but fluid. Vaughn rocked his hips and moaned, tilting his head forward to capture Rhys's lips with his. He took his hand off Rhys's and grabbed both sides of Rhys's jaw, their kisses descending into sloppy, desperate territory. Rhys slowed each stroke, determined to drag this on as long as he could get away with. He homed in on Vaughn's breathing and sought to match the quickened pace. Vaughn noticed what Rhys was doing almost immediately, and they fell into a rhythm of rolling hips and gasps, Vaughn's eyes fluttering open, beautiful and frantic and only inches away. Affection stirred in Rhys's stomach as Vaughn took the lead, hauling in a deep breath through his nose. Rhys followed, his lungs filling with air. They sighed into each other's mouths on the exhale, a deep shiver spreading down Vaughn's spine.

"Rhys, I'm gonna come," he whispered, his lips bumping into Rhys's.

Rhys nodded and kissed him again, just the thought of Vaughn coming on him driving him mad with want. Vaughn broke their kiss and tried to shy away, but Rhys caught his mouth before he strayed too far. Vaughn's thighs tensed and he cried out abruptly, gripping Rhys's jaw as the underside of his cock started to pulse. The subtle throb against his own dick struck Rhys like a branch of lightning; somehow, through sheer willpower alone, he managed to keep up the rhythm even as Vaughn's body seized and his breath hitched over and over, his hand and both their cocks warm and slick with Vaughn's come. Already overstimulated and overwhelmed on top of the sight of a blissed out Vaughn—his face flushed, chest heaving, still whimpering—Rhys tipped over the edge within seconds. He barely stifled a shout as the tight coil in his groin unraveled, orgasm rippling through him in surges of mind-numbing pleasure. His cybernetic arm, still locked behind him, trembled and faltered. His grasp around their cocks loosened and he fell back onto the bed, filling the space between them with heavy panting to accompany Vaughn's, which had already started to slow.

Vaughn watched Rhys from on top of him, his eyes half-lidded and glassy. Rhys blinked a couple of times as if coming out of a stupor. The muscles in his back relaxed. He wiped the thin line of sweat from his hairline.

"Hey," Rhys said, his heart lifting into his throat as the adrenaline of it all scaled back far enough for him to truly comprehend what just happened between them.

"Hey." Vaughn smiled. He climbed off of Rhys, tucked himself back into his pants, and collapsed alongside Rhys on his side, beaming up at him. He curled his foot around Rhys's leg and rubbed his toes against his clothed shin. Rhys buttoned his pants and rolled onto his side, so close their noses nearly touched. Neither of them said anything else until their breathing evened out.

"So, that—um, _wow,_ " Rhys finally said, dopey and tongue-tied. His body still hummed with a languid energy that tingled all the way down to the tips of his toes. If he wasn't beholden to Fiona and her rescue operation, he would've already started to drift into a catatonic recovery state that involved a nap and his entire body molded around Vaughn's.

Vaughn snorted, his hair splayed out against the bedspread. "Something like that, yeah."

"Remind me again why didn't we do this sooner?"

"Because we're idiots."

"Oh yeah. Right. It's all coming back to me now."

Vaughn poked Rhys in the stomach, dragging the slick tip of his index finger up past his navel, drawing a swirly design in the streaks of Rhys's come.

"You kinda made a mess," Vaughn said.

Rhys watched Vaughn trace a heart into his skin with a swell of fondness and bizarre amusement, shivering with each gentle stroke across his stomach. "I'll take this mess any day over all the other dumpster fire messes I've made lately," Rhys said.

Instant regret built in his throat as he watched Vaughn's blissful expression drop down a rung, then another. Vaughn's forefinger halted against Rhys's hipbone. The familiar shock of self-loathing pinched Rhys like he'd stuck his finger between metal cogs. Shit. Why couldn't he keep his goddamn mouth shut? Was his physical presence not enough to remind Vaughn of his failures that he had to ramble on endlessly about it too?

He shook his head. "Ugh, I'm sorry. I don't know why I said that."

Vaughn's hand fell limp against the bedspread, his face going slack and staring off into nothing.

A jarring pang pulsed in the center of Rhys's heart. He'd done it again: ruined a perfect moment of peace between them at the exact moment he'd given his demons the slip. Just like that, they'd found him again, doggedly biting at his heels. It was only a matter of time, really.

The silence they'd enjoyed seconds ago thickened, turning stifling and painful as Rhys inhaled. His jaw twitched.

"Can we just—? Let's forget about that," Rhys said.

Vaughn nodded, but his mind was elsewhere—probably doing gravity-defying acrobatics to justify what he'd just done with the one person he shouldn't have done it with.

Rhys clenched his cybernetic hand into a fist so hard that it pulled a tender, abused nerve in his shoulder. He winced.

"D-Do you think this helped? At all?" he ventured. He couldn't have sounded more pathetic if he tried, but he didn't care. "Did I make it worse?" he said, his voice shrinking to a near-whisper. "I didn't mean—" He cut himself off, panic settling in to every joint in his body. "I'm sorry, Vaughn."

Vaughn's lips thinned. Small dimples prickled across his chin. He curled his head in against his own chest to hide his face, the top of his head propping up under Rhys's chin. He dragged Rhys into him and held him there, his hands hot against Rhys's ribcage.

"I love you," he said, his breath spilling across Rhys's throat. "So much I don't know what to do with myself."

A meager breath caught in Rhys's lungs. "Still?"

Vaughn tightened his grip. "Yes."

Though Rhys's kneejerk reaction was disbelief, shock and relief both surged through his veins. He returned Vaughn's clawing embrace like it was for dear life, clutching at Vaughn's muscled arms. He rubbed Vaughn's shoulders then traveled back down, not sure where to rest them—just possessed with the need to touch Vaughn everywhere he could while he still had the chance.

"Promise me you'll come back," Vaughn said, his voice breaking at last.

Rhys curled a finger around a lock of Vaughn's hair, hoping Vaughn registered the nodding movement as a silent promise—the only one he could muster. "The second I realized it was you under those bandit clothes, I haven't wanted you to leave my sight. And especially not after our talk yesterday." He bowed his head so that his forehead touched Vaughn's. "I missed you so much."

"Me too."

"I'm just—I'm so fucked up, Vaughn." He sighed. "And I don't want to make things worse for you. So if there's any chance that leaving for good will—"

"No."

Rhys smiled into Vaughn's hair. "Okay. I believe you. It'll be okay, right?"

Vaughn nodded, face still pressed into the hollow of Rhys's throat. Rhys was certain Vaughn could feel the panicked spike of his heartbeat in the crook of his neck.

"I won't let you down, Vaughn. I know I've let you down more times than anyone _should_ to deserve another chance. I'll never forgive myself for it. But I'm determined to do better for you."

"I know."

"Yeah?"

Vaughn lifted his head, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in a smile—or maybe it was an attempt to keep himself from crying outright. "I can't lose you again, Rhys. It hurts too much."

"I know. I'm right here."

They stared at each other for a few minutes in silence, tears held in just behind Vaughn's eyelids. Rhys leaned forward and Vaughn met him in the middle for a kiss, soft and gentle. Rhys raked his fingers through Vaughn's hair and steadied his hand under the curve of Vaughn's spine at the base of his neck.

"I'll be back before you know it. And, if you want, tonight, maybe we could—" A stinging sensation bit just below his cheekbones. "We could do this again, maybe." His face burned but he withstood it proudly, eyes fixed on Vaughn.

Vaughn blew a short breath from his nose, something like a laugh, and wiped at his eyes with the back of a hand. He sniffled and nodded. "I was kinda hoping you'd say that," he said, laughing a little harder, self-conscious and wonderful. Something airy and light sprouted from within Rhys.

He kissed Vaughn's forehead and sat up. "I was more than kinda hoping you were into it."

Vaughn scoffed. "Just a little. Not like I wanted to do that for years or anything. Nah."

Rhys's heart quivered in place. "Anything else you've, um, wanted to do?"

Vaughn swallowed. "Don't even—don't start."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I wouldn't let you leave this room for days."

"Wow, yeah, that sounds awful. Do not want."

Vaughn laughed.

A digital beep rang out from beside Rhys, playing on a constant, jarring loop. He rolled over and identified the culprit: the face of Vaughn's Atlas watch blinked on and off. Grabbing it by the wristband, he noted that it was heavier than he remembered—its construction sleek and stylish and so very Atlas. A pit of pride turned in his stomach. He had a lot to live up to if he planned on continuing the Atlas name and doing right by the brand.

The watch registered movement and displayed the local Pandoran time. 08:45. He handed it over to Vaughn, who eyed the watch with something like confusion before brushing his forefinger across the face, deactivating the alarm.

He squinted at it. "I guess I was drunker than I thought last night. I must've input a reminder to see you off," Vaughn explained. He swiped his finger a couple more times and covered his mouth with his hand to stifle a chuckle. "Oh my god. Look what the note says."

Vaughn tilted the watch toward Rhys. All it said was "Kjss him ;D!"

Rhys snorted, then lifted his hand and ran his thumb over Vaughn's bicep. "Well? Are you going to see me off then?"

Vaughn leaned in and kissed Rhys on the tip of his nose. "That's all you get. And you get the rest when you come back."

"Rude," he said, physically unable to stop smiling. He sat up and drew both sides of his open shirt together, starting to button it from top to bottom.

Vaughn watched him. "So, you're just gonna go get Athena with—uh, without washing up, huh?" He pointed to Rhys's stomach. "How very Pandoran of you."

Rhys looked down. "Oops. I mean, it's pretty much dry by now."

"Gross." Vaughn scrunched his nose.

"Said the guy who was drawing pictures with it earlier," Rhys said, mimicking Vaughn's face. "Yeah, actually, I should probably go, er, clean up. Fiona will actually probably kill me if I'm not at the caravan in like ten minutes, so..." He scooted forward on the bed, the heat of Vaughn's body leaving him like an extinguished flame.

Vaughn sat up, pulling his legs in and crossing them. "Tell her I said good morning and that I told her so?"

"Oh god, you _want_ her to kill me, don't you?"

Vaughn smirked. "But seriously. Be safe, okay?" he said, quieter.

Rhys leaned down and took up both sides of his jaw in his hands, pressing their lips together. Vaughn slid his tongue into Rhys's mouth with ease, humming all the while. Temptation to sink back onto the bed and make up for lost time danced around his brain. But he pulled away with an apologetic frown, brushing his thumb over Vaughn's beard.

"See you tonight," Rhys said, as close as he could get to a promise. He backed toward the doorway, his heart aching more with each step. 

Vaughn nodded, solace settling into the crook of his smile. "Tonight."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Under the Wreckage [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7910383) by [Pod Person (Sandini)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sandini/pseuds/Pod%20Person)




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